Fire Dancer
by Jane Hawkins
Summary: Esmeralda and her sister, Crysta, have traveled from one town to the next with their mother most of their lives. Their mother never wants to stay in one place very long, and forces them to keep moving. But now that Esmeralda is old enough to go off on her own, she learns the secret her mother is hiding and the real reason they can't stay in one place.


My name is Jane. No last name, for now. (Though, most of you may know me as Jane Porter; that is not my real last name.) I am on the run and it is best not to give away too much information about myself. I can tell you I am a researcher and, as of recently, a writer as well. I have spent a great deal of my time reading, but I have never been one to be interested in fiction. I'm telling you this, dear reader, in order for you to understand that this story is not fiction. I have done my research on the events in this story and I assure you it's all true. It is because of this story that I find myself on the run and in hiding and using a fake last name. As they would say in a movie or other fictional story: I know too much.

I believe this story needs to be told, however. But I am sorry to say that if you continue to read this you will know as much as I do and you may find yourself on the run, as well. If you do not wish to spend the remainder of your life looking over your shoulder in fear and knowing that nearby is man with a name as dark as the shadows you are hiding in, then I suggest you stop reading this immediately.

At the risk of being caught and putting you, dear reader, in danger I begin this story. It does not have a pleasant beginning like most stories you could be reading instead of this one; it actually has a wet and muddy beginning.

Esmeralda and her sister, Crysta, lied next to each other on the side of the road. They and their mother, Gothel, had been chased out of the small town by the circus performers who claimed they were stealing their money and customers. As the rain fell hard on Esmeralda and the mud seeped into her clothes she listened to the music and laughter coming from the circus tent in the distance. It was too dark to see anything other than the torches that surrounded the tent which had not yet been extinguished by the rain.

This town was flat and even though the townspeople and the circus performers were miles away, there was nothing obstructing Esmeralda's view of them. Of course it was too dark and she was too far away to see any of their faces, but she could still vividly picture their sneers as they chased her and her family away.

Esmeralda was used to this. She, her sister and her mother had been traveling from town to town most of her life. They never stayed in one place more than a couple days; mostly because their mother wanted to keep moving, but also because the locals very rarely welcomed them. Esmeralda, who was only eighteen, was a very good dancer and used her talent to earn money for her family, but the locals accused her of being a husband-stealing harlot. They didn't bother to learn that Esmeralda had never been with a man and certainly wasn't going to sleep with someone else's husband. Crysta, who was seventeen, was very much in touch with nature and made herbal teas, perfumes and elixirs. She knew everything about plants, flowers and trees; from what could heal you, to what could kill you, to what could relax you. But unfortunately, when people see a stranger with potions, they immediately assume she is a witch.

Esmeralda tried to fall asleep, knowing that in the morning they would move on to the next town. Their mother never told them any of her plans, but the girls didn't mind. Their mother was trustworthy and she wouldn't lead them into a dangerous situation. Sadly on that night, as the family slept in the rain, they had no way of knowing that by the end of this story only half that statement would be accurate.

Crysta stirred beside Esmeralda and slowly opened her eyes. She turned her head to avoid getting rain in her eyes, only to be met with mud squishing against her cheek. I don't know if you, dear reader, have ever been in mud, but mud is very thick and when you are in mud you sometimes can get stuck and feel like you are sinking. So, I don't have to tell you how Crysta felt waking up to the odd sensation of being stuck and sinking face first into the ground. Even if it did only last momentarily before she got her bearings and remembered where she was.

Crysta quickly sat up and wiped the mud off her cheek. She then looked around her and frowned. "It's not morning, yet?"

Esmeralda sat up. "Not yet. You haven't been asleep very long, Crysta. Maybe only an hour or so."

"Perhaps the next town we come to will be more welcoming and we can sleep in a bed." Crysta gave her sister a hopeful smile. Despite all of their traveling and all the people they have met, Crysta was always optimistic and still a bit naive. It had been months since the family had been to a welcoming town, but that didn't discourage Crysta one bit.

Esmeralda, on the other hand, preferred to remain realistic. She never judged a town before they were in it and therefore was never optimistic or pessimistic. Unlike their mother who only saw darkness in the world and was very pessimistic about everything.

"Maybe we'll actually stay in the next town," Esmeralda said. "I'd like to finally settle down somewhere, make friends; have a real home."

"Even _I _don't have hope for that," Crysta told her. "You know mother will always make us leave."

"I don't know... I mean I'm eighteen now; I should be allowed to do whatever I want. And I definitely don't want to go from town to town anymore."

Crysta raised an eyebrow at her older sister. "You're going to leave me?"

Esmeralda hadn't thought of it like that. Crysta was her best friend and they needed each other. "Of course I'm not going to leave you."

Without meaning to, Crysta had formed those simple five words into an arrow that shot down her sister's dream. Esmeralda gave Crysta a small smile, but her heart was heavy. She worried her life would always be the same; like mud keeping her stuck in one place.

I'm sorry to say, dear reader, that soon that would be the least of her worries.


End file.
